[mission: hyrypia] i am not there; i do not sleep

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72; Hyrypia - The Graze
WHEN: DAY :019 - DAY :020
SUMMARY: Somewhere deep in the void between multiverses, a fresh clutch of Hosts hatches; down on the planet Hyrypia, a Host is laid to rest.
WARNINGS: Mentions of character death, funerary services. Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

STATION 72
DAY :019

NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP and the universe with you in it is suddenly different. --No. That's not right. You're you, the universe is as it's always been, and there's no suddenly about it. It's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or coming up from the darkness of some wine dark sea. Nothing is different and yet everything is.

Here you are, a small miracle of the multiverse: lying in a small, faintly hexagonal chamber with a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. If you were injured during your escape, those injuries have been healed. If you were anxious or frightened or distraught, those feelings have been calmed. There's something peaceful about waking up here - like you belong. That feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But once the tube's disconnected? Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills that peaceful void - fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety. A matching dread. An easy comfort. Maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party happening behind a nearby closed door.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. Maybe it's time for a change? Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone. There are a handful of you here, somehow intimately familiar to each other.

Welcome to Station 72. Beyond this room it's quiet and still, feeling for all the world like a shell for some vast dark thing.

Eventually, a sensation manifests out of the black. It says:


PREPARE YOURSELF
THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD is sound and sensation: a warm shaft of sunlight through smoky glass - a gauzy curtain twitching in some summer breeze. It says or feels like:

( Come meet with me, won't you? )

Where exactly this meeting is supposed to occur isn't immediately clear, but head in the direction that seems correct and eventually Station 72 gets you where you're meant to be: a circular briefing room with tiered seating, empty now, before a woman with a sheet of graying hair and something focused in her expression. It's been some time since she's spoken with a young host - since she's done one of this briefings. Apparently she's feeling something like her usual self. She smiles and it's very warm.

"Welcome to Station 72. Unfortunately, you won't be here long but we'd like to answer as many of your questions as we're able before you leave this place."

[ooc note: please see here for the catch-all briefing thread]


THE STATION
WITH A LITTLE UNDER 24 HOURS before it's time to make the trip to Hyrypia, this is as good an opportunity as you're going to get to familiarize yourself with Station 72 before you leave it. There's plenty to see, but a distinct lack of people to make conversation with. It's lonely and quiet and there's a sensation of dust gathering even where there is none. Maybe studying the briefing files on your databank is the most proactive distraction, but if not? Well there's plenty of places to get lost...

In the simulated morning, a strange archaic ship has arrived on the Hangar. Its very alien pilots unload two heavy trunks, then dole out a series of kits to the new hosts. One of them - the pale female alien who her calls herself Rhan - cheerfully announces, "Get changes and buckle in. I'm afraid we've some grim business ahead of us today. Funerals, you know. But chin up, my darlings. One uncomfortable day and then we'll leave the matter behind us. --Oh, but do be gentle with the others. I suspect they might be tender for a few days yet."

You leave the Station. If you're lucky, you might one day make it back.

HYRYPIA - THE GRAZE
DAY :020

THE FUNERAL PROCESSION
A SHIP DESCENDS from the iron colored sky early in the morning on Day :020. Before it even pierces the planet's atmosphere, its cargo should be obvious to the other Carbauschians: a new batch of Hosts, freshly hatched and just in time for the grim festivities.

The idea is simple: that they are part of a mourning delegation, only here to briefly oversee Lavellan's funerary rites. Luckily (...) there's plenty of comatose Hosts lying in the tents to trade places with the newcomers.

Better get to know your new friends quickly - there's plenty to be brought up to speed on (such as, uh, the recent death of one of the elder Hosts), and likely enough work to be done that the new spare hands are welcome. Or maybe the state of nothing-like-faux mourning is a good excuse for some alone time on a strange new alien planet. You're all so very, very far from home.


BURIAL RITES
THE FUNERAL has been arranged to the Hosts' precise specifications. Each and every single request they've made has been met, carried out by two soft-spoken, contrite Hyrypian servants who had come to them not long after their return from the hunt. Perhaps because the members of the other envoys are unsure whether it's permitted or welcome to attend, the site of the funerary pyre is hardly full to bursting with onlookers. Or maybe the burning of corpses goes against some obscure tradition. Or maybe some of the minor envoys simply don't care much and think the Carbasuchians are best left to their grief alone. Still, while it's hardly the entire encampment in attendance a notable selection of diplomats and their respective entourages and several of their Hyrypian hosts have turned out for the ceremony. It seems the Descendants in particular have turned out in some force, including the very hunter saved by Lavellan's quick thinking.

When the time comes for the rites to proceed, it's left to the Hosts to light the fire and say their farewells to their fallen comrade - the first and hopefully last to be lost in this strange land.


A SOMBER CELEBRATION
ASH SCENT HANGS HEAVY STILL over the encampment. Or maybe that's simply the perception - after all, the breeze still blows in from over the Great Flat. Surely it's just a memory of the smell which lingers, as circumstantial as the mournful note the wind sighs as it cuts across the Graze and into the tangled Finger Maze.

However, matters of the universe don't pause for the tragedy of the loss of an envoy - and there is so much riding on this Pilgrimage. To their credit, the Hyrypians have done all they can to provide for the Carbauschians in their time of grief (including a visit from the Matron Bassita herself, pale and full of sympathy and apologies), and as evening falls what clearly was meant to be a carousing party to celebrate a successful hunt and completion of the Pilgrimage's first stage has been considerably tempered.

The drinks still flow; the food is still plentiful, rich and lavishly spiced - but the music being played is soft and careful and of the hundreds of small technomanced insect lights the drift over the encampment tonight, a considerably portion of them are dedicated to lingering around the charred skeleton of the funeral pyre as a sober acknowledgement of what has come to pass.

Give it a few hours and maybe the mood will lighten slightly. On the other hand, there's nothing like an uncomfortably close tragedy to bring people together - and as Rhan suggests, maybe now's exactly the right time to ask a few pointed questions. Or to get hammered with new friends. Or to take a nice long walk while everyone else is consumed by the muted festivities.

---

((OOC Notes: This log covers the hatch, the arrival of new Hosts on Hyrypia, the funeral of Lavellan and the supremely awkward dinner party meant to wrap the first stage of the Pilgrimage. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find a more detailed overview of the host hatching process HERE and additional setting information about the Station HERE. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information if you're brand new to the game. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[detestable]

[ Her amusement is like secondhand smoke. The urge to take a step back rises, even though Seth knows that's not going to do any good.

This woman, she's as interested in getting a reaction out of him as Annie had been. Shinji had been right, when he'd talked about lessons and people prodding into his head. Seth is as uninterested in providing his credentials now as he had been in the midst of that conversation. A better sell would be talking about killing a god, closing the gates of hell, surviving a goddamn snake pit. But Seth snorts instead, swirling the sweet-smelling alcohol in his glass. ]

Just a hunch.

[ And not unfounded, considering the slew of sloppiness on display at the moment. Seth doubts it was a calculated decision to follow up the funeral by hitting the bar this hard. He'd barely need his own drink if the idea of riding everyone else's buzz wasn't so unpalatable. ]

[adamance]

[The amusement retracts slowly but surely, as if she wants it to feel like it's fading. Lexa doesn't have that much control, so the slow residual nature of it is mostly like she's tugging away a blanket in a staccato manner. She can handle her emotions when it comes to clamping them down behind a door. Letting them out to mess with someone else is a different story altogether.]

So it's not only that you wish to push us out. That decision is reasonable. [Most new people feel the same way, even if they don't express it.]

But you also believe that you're above us ... all of us. [Lexa doesn't bother to play the Commander card. She has a hunch it'll be brushed off in some way. A similar hunch.]

You may want to keep that to yourself. [Lest he make more enemies. He's already left a poor impression on her.]

[detestable]

[ The stuttering retreat of her amusement is satisfying, though Seth's aware enough to know he's not scoring any points. That might make life difficult later on, but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. ]

That pisses you off, huh?

[ Not that it's such a stretch to come to that conclusion. ]

What I believe is that this is an opportunity to cozy up to the locals while they're feeling sympathetic, and half your team is...

[ Seth trails off. The sick-sweet bleed of intoxication and grief that's permeating the link speaks for itself. ]

But hey, maybe your standards are different than mine.

[ Like so many others who've prodded at his head tonight, Lexa doesn't wholly deserve Seth's ire. As hypocritical as it is for Seth to criticize, he can still recognize the wasted opportunity and the way things have come apart here in the middle of a job. Cathaway had gone out of her way to impress the importance of it on them. The only profit Seth's going to see is surviving it, and that's enough of a reason for him to be less than pleased with what he's come up against on the ground in his first introduction to the rest of the Nest. ]

[adamance]

Some of them ... many of them lack the walls that I have, or that you desire. [If Lexa were crueler—or feeling up to being cruel, which is probably a more precise way of looking at it—she would try to throw that in his face. She doesn't bother. His statement isn't an incorrect one, but it appears that he's even worse at empathy than she is.] If they share a brood, it's even harder. You weren't here to experience the death. You don't know what it's like to have to notice the death of someone completely insignificant because of what's in our heads.

[Lexa is distant when it comes to the proceedings, but she realizes that she doesn't judge them for grieving. Perhaps she would. Perhaps she'd find some way to be angry if she had a reason for it. Or to feign anger toward a greater purpose. But that's a lot of perhaps, and she feels no need.]

Grief and sympathy shouldn't last a mere day. If the other envoys are less sympathetic tomorrow, then it may tell us more about them than about ourselves.

[detestable]

[ Frustration meets her words. Seth drains his glass before he bothers to answer. ]

If this bunch can't keep their eye on the prize, then it's not going to matter.

[ Which means pushing through grief, but then again, Seth hasn't ever had the healthiest response to grief. ]

And if we do our jobs, no one has to find out what it feels like to lose another member of the party, right?

[ In a lot of ways, this is like trying to reconcile different methods at the start of any job except they aren't trying to hit a bank, they're trying to root out a bunch of hidden enemies and prevent them from getting a hold of something precious and probably destructive. It's complicated. Seth can acknowledge that, even while ignoring that messily trying to disassociate from grief is far from a winning strategy. ]

[adamance]

You've misunderstood what I had to say. When a life is lost in the Nest, it feels as if it's ripped away. My stability in the wake of it is something that I fight for. Strength comes with understanding potential weaknesses. [To her, his focus is narrow. That doesn't mean she approves of how the Nest is choosing to grieve. But there's a reason why she depends on them to put on shows, while she tries to move people into places. That's how she always intends to cope. Nothing will change that.]

They act in a way that suits us. It means that we can maintain a clear head and do what's needed. If the other envoys believe our people intend to cherish every life, it'll add weight to why we're here and what we're doing even if we aren't from an envoy expected to succeed here. [And as unusual and archaic as they are, they can't be expected to accomplish much of anything.]

You will only harm this group if you see this only one way. As a leader, I know that I can only ask for so much, and then make up for others' failures. Don't judge what you do not know. That's the mistake of an amateur.

[detestable]

[ The explanation she's offering isn't what Seth wants to accept. It's seeped in emotion and expressed in a way Seth can't abide. What Lexa's saying strikes him as an excuse still. He shakes his head. ]

Giving people a free pass on their failures? That's what's going to harm the group.

[ And Seth doesn't have the luxury of cutting the worst of the bunch out of the job. For better or for worse, this was his team. ]

But hey, feel free to spend your time coming up with a cloud cover instead of telling your people to shape up.

[ In that, Seth clearly severs himself from the activities at the feast. Funeral. Whatever. It's not his play. ]

I need another drink, so as fun as this was...

[ He's outtie. ]

[adamance]

I'll be certain to account for your failures, as well. [To empathize. To understand. Lexa isn't exactly the best at these things, but her time in the Nest has taught her that she can't lord her own knowledge over others. Will he learn? She doubts it. But the real trouble is that he places everyone else's failures upon her, as if she's meant to make up for it.

It'll be interesting to see him grasp how little control he has over this situation. Even when it comes to himself.

Well, assuming she bothers to observe him. Regardless of what capabilities he seems to think she has, she doesn't have time to waste on someone who isn't all that interesting.]

As it is ... you drinking is better than this, so feel free.